Monday, April 2, 2012

Day One: Hawaii

Aloha!

I’m back from Hawaii.

I already miss it.

But before we made it to Hawaii, we had to travel on a long airplane ride.

I do not like airplanes.

It all started last Monday morning. Well, wait. It really started the night before, because I was trying to pack for the trip. I suck at packing. I was standing in my closet wondering what I should bring. Tom finished deciding what he wanted to bring in five minutes.

“Done,” he said, tossing in his final shirt.

Meanwhile, I was still debating if I should bring my pink flip flops or just stick with the black ones.

What perfume should I bring? The kind that made me smell like peaches or the more sultry one?

Did I need my straightener? Probably. What if my hair didn’t like Hawaii?

Did I need—

“Why are girls so complicated?” Tom wanted to know. “Guys are simple. We toss in clothes, deodorant and a toothbrush and we’re done.”

By the time I was done, I felt like I had packed most of my closet.

Tom thought I had packed most of my closet.

“There is no way you’ll wear all these clothes,” Tom said, bewildered.

“I might,” I insisted. I nodded my chin towards the various dresses. “I never know what occasion we’ll be confronted with. And who knows, I might want to pretend to be in the 1900s where they changed like five times a day.”

Tom shook his head and muttered something about complicated women and their packing.

We were dropped off at the airport the next day. I said goodbye to the kids—Natalie was like, “Don’t forget me.” Don’t forget her? We weren’t even going to be gone for a week! Way to make me feel guilty.

Then it came time for security, which I hate. It makes me cranky. It makes Tom cranky. This is why we could never, ever do The Amazing Race together. Our conversation went something like this in the security line:

Tom: You need to take off your jacket. (Yes, I brought a light jacket. Airplanes make me cold, yo.)

Me: Why? I’ll be going through the scanner anyway.

Tom: I travel more than you do. You’ll need to take off your jacket. Don’t tell me how to travel.

Me: I really don’t think—

Airplane Worker: You need to take off your jacket ma’am.

Tom: *Tossing me a knowing smug look* I told you. Like I said, I know how to travel.

Me: Well congrats to you, asshole.

I know. I shouldn’t name call. But security gets me tense. Especially when the lady behind me was practically pushing me along as I took my shoes off. And I don’t like to be wrong.

I went through the scanner and it went off. Naturally. This meant I had to be frisked. I wanted to joke and be like, “Ma’am, I don’t even know how to do fourth grade math, let alone make a bomb.” But somehow I don’t think the TSA lot find anything with the word bomb amusing.

I also had to have my hands wiped down to make sure I didn’t have explosive residue on them.

Again.

I don’t even remember how to solve fractions.

I wouldn’t even know where to begin making something explosive.

Being at the airport without kids is relaxing as you wait for your plane. I was able to read. In peace. While munching some food. I didn’t even have to share. I DIDN’T EVEN HAVE TO SHARE!

Then we boarded the plane and I distracted myself by finally reading The Hunger Games. I enjoyed the book and it kept me busy. I would have read it all non-stop but then Tom would get bored and would try to take the book from me.

“Break time,” he’d say.

What’s this BREAK TIME?

Then I felt bad because here we were going on a trip. Shouldn’t I be kissing him? Doing something vaguely inappropriate discreetly?

So I kissed him.

Leaned my head on his shoulder.

And all I could think was WHAT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN TO KATNISS?

“You want your book back, don’t you?” Tom asked. He knows me well.

“Yes. But, you know, we can snuggle,” I offered.

Tom handed me the book back. “You can read. I know you’re aching to finish.”

And finish I did. How to waste eight hours? Read The Hunger Games.

When we landed it was still light out. Tom and I pressed our noses against the plane window and marveled at the color of the ocean.

“It’s so blue,” I whispered.

Outside it was even better. The air was warm and mixed with something sweet. Birds chirped in the distance. An actual Hawaiian man with a lei around his neck walked past us.

We were definitely in paradise.

We climbed into an airport shuttle that would take us to our hotel, the Hale Koa. I was surprised to see so many of the following things:

--Japanese tourists

--ABC Stores

--Wild Chickens

We pulled up at our hotel and my heart thumped with excitement. This was it. Our vacation was beginning.

What a gorgeous picture!I was like that with The Hunger Games too, I had to keep reading, even though my brother was here for the first time in 4 years. It's OK, he's a reader, so he got it.Can't wait to see more pictures.

Yeah I noticed you colored your hair!! You know, that's another man-woman thing. The guys WANT us to look good. The guys want us to smell good. The guys want us to be "all that" then they complain about how complicated it gets. Guys don't seem to realize that takes work on a woman's part to satisfy them! Oh sure, we make things complicated. If we didn't... we wouldn't look the way they would want us to look. We would have wild hair and pale faces with streaks and discolorations showing all over and chapped lips and all that and what will they think about us then?

I always obsess about what to take that will cover every kind of weather and occasion. Always end up with at least two outfits that I didn't need. Knowing that, I usually take out a couple of things after I've packed. Now you've got me wanting to go to Hawaii.

I hear you about the security! I was the one that made a comment "yes, you can hide really big bombs in cranky toddlers shoes". I was told off and advised that should I make another comment I won't be flying anywhere! Oops :) Your pic looks fab.

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A husband in the Air Force. A wife semi-obsessed with bargain shopping. A son with ADHD and Aspergers. A feisty daughter obsessed with Disney princesses. And hi, if you're an agent, I've written a chick lit book. I'd be a fantastic client and would send you chocolates.